There’s a moment in this week’s episode where folksinger and creative lifer Anna Vogelzang says, “I needed someone to look at me and say: you’re still doing this.” I’ve been thinking about that. Because it’s not always easy to tell, is it? Whether we’re still in it. Whether it still matters. Whether we still matter.

Anna’s someone I’ve admired for years — not just because she writes these beautiful, poignant songs, but because she’s a true creative lifer. She’s kept showing up through multiple records, two kids, three cities, and a shifting music industry that’s made persistence its own kind of poetry. In this episode, we talk about the transition from ambition to authenticity, how her creative process evolved after becoming a mother, and what it really means to build a sustainable life in the arts.

There’s a lot of honesty here. About burnout. About the identity crisis that comes when the thing you’ve wrapped your whole life around starts to feel… different. And about the ways we come back to ourselves, not in spite of change, but because of it. Anna also shares what it was like to write 144 songs for her new album Afterglow — and how the very act of writing became a lifeline when she wasn’t sure she could still call herself a musician.

As always, this show is for anyone trying to make art a part of their everyday lives — or for anyone who believes in the power of supporting those who do. If you're in a season where the dream feels far away, or you're wondering if it's worth continuing, I think you'll find something in Anna’s story that keeps you tethered.

P.S. — Be sure to check out the gorgeous live performance of “Small Dreams,” recorded in-studio with Packy Lundholm. It’s the kind of song that meets you where you are, especially if where you are is somewhere in-between.

Check it out and then listen to Anna’s brand new record “Afterglow”. It drops tomorrow, everywhere.

“I lived the dream I had at nineteen. Now I’m trying to see what else is out there.”—Jason Carter

For 33 years, Jason Carter was the fiddler for the Del McCoury Band—a role as iconic in bluegrass circles as it gets. He joined at nineteen, fresh out of Eastern Kentucky, and spent the next three decades on the road, backing one of the most revered voices in American roots music. If you’ve seen Del live any time since the early ’90s, you’ve seen Jason—bow flying, head tilted, every note right where it needed to be.

Now, for the first time in his adult life, he’s stepping away from the comfort of that legacy and striking out on his own. It’s not a reinvention so much as a slow reveal: Jason’s still playing the music he loves, just a little more on his own terms. In this conversation, we talk about how it all started, what he learned from years riding shotgun on the McCoury bus, and what finally tipped the scales toward change.

I first saw Jason at the Columbia Gorge Bluegrass Festival when I was still new to the whole scene. I remember watching him and thinking, This guy is the sound inside the sound. He wasn’t just playing fiddle—he was holding the whole thing together, quietly, from the side of the stage.

And now here he is, not just stepping into the spotlight musically, but in life too. Earlier this year, Jason married his partner and fellow musician Bronwyn Keith-Hynes in the circle of the Grand Ole Opry stage—at sunrise, no less. It’s the kind of detail that feels like the end of a movie. But for Jason, it’s really just the start.

Not only was this a fantastic conversation, but we also got a little taste of Jason steppin out to sing one of his own. I hope you enjoy this episode as much as I did!